The news sent shockwaves through the Icelandic government. President Strengur arrived at the Coast Guard headquarters to find it in chaos. "Commodore," he said, his voice tight, "tell me you can defeat this... this serpent."
The North Sea fishery was the lifeblood of Iceland's economy. Its collapse would be worse than any financial crisis.
Commodore Davíð Arthur's face was grim. "Mr. President, with all due respect, we should ask for help." His entire fleet consisted of two combat-ready patrol boats armed with nothing heavier than a Bofors autocannon. It would be like shooting a BB gun at a battleship.
"Help from who?" President Strengur asked, his pride warring with his pragmatism.
"Russia," the Commodore said without hesitation. "This creature is too large for conventional arms. We need missiles. Possibly tactical nuclear weapons."
The President hesitated. Relations with the Russian Federation were frosty at best. His Vice President, a man named Jakob, spoke up. "Perhaps... we should seek assistance from Japan."
The room fell silent. Japan's military was famously limited.
"Their military may be weak," Jakob explained, "but they are protected by their gods. They faced a supernatural crisis in Nara, an event codenamed 'Night Parade,' and their city was saved when they summoned a deity called Ame-no-Minakanushi. We could ask them to summon their god to deal with our monster."
The idea was outlandish, but after the events in Nara, every world leader knew that the age of myth had returned. Covert investigations had been launched in every country, searching for hidden supernatural powers. Iceland's search had turned up nothing.
"It is a sound strategy," one minister agreed. "We should pursue both options. Contact Japan and Russia. See who can deliver."
"We can also leak the story," another added. "Call it the legendary Jörmungandr. The international community's interest in the supernatural is at an all-time high. We might not even have to pay for the cleanup."
The room buzzed with discussion, a frantic brainstorming session to save their nation. Suddenly, a gruff, powerful voice cut through the noise.
"Since when do we Northmen seek help from other tribes to solve our problems?"
The room went silent. All heads turned to the doorway. A man stood there, dressed in a trench coat and a beret, from which a few strands of blond hair escaped. His face was rugged, his grey-blue eyes sharp and commanding. He was, of course, Leo, having created a duplicate and molded it into the perfect image of a Nordic warrior.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?" the Vice President demanded.
The man simply looked at him, and a wave of raw, intimidating pressure filled the room, silencing Jakob mid-sentence. "Since when does an outlander give orders to a Northman?" he said coldly. With a flick of his wrist, an invisible force sent the Vice President flying through the wall and out of sight.
"Do not worry," the man said, his tone softening as he addressed the stunned President. "I will not harm a brave kinsman. Your guards showed courage in trying to stop me. When they die, I will ask the Valkyries to guide them to Valhalla."
President Strengur understood. This was him. A real, Icelandic supernatural. One of their own.
"That outlander," the man said, his voice turning to ice again, "will be given one warning. Next time, I will cast him into Hel."
"Are you here to help us kill the serpent?" Strengur asked, his voice now full of reverence.
The man nodded. "Jörmungandr has woken from his slumber before the appointed time of Ragnarök. It is a problem that must be dealt with." He paused. "But even in his weakened state, he is a formidable foe. I will require three weapons for this task."
"Name them," the President said immediately.
"First, the sword Fragarach, the Retaliator."
"Second, the spear Longinus, the God-killer."
"And third, Gungnir, the spear of Odin himself."
The President's face fell. "Sir," he said, his voice cracking. "Perhaps you could choose... different weapons?"